Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Something is wrong.
I haven't seen Cat in five days. The last time was Monday morning when I snuck out of her bed at dawn to go for a run with the twins.
That afternoon, I'd been ready to head back to her dorm when she texted me saying she was sick.
She takes ages to answer my messages and hasn't picked up her phone once. Two days ago, I went by the dorm with soup, but Blondie wouldn't even let me into their room. She just took the food and closed the door in my face.
She looked worried.
If Cat is so sick she can't have visitors, I should insist she sees a doctor.
Aran, who is a human mood ring, has naturally picked up on my brooding. We're leaving the gym after another off-season sanctioned workout, and he's watching me intently in the way he does.
"What?" I snap, running a hand through my hair and scowling at him. It's not really fair of me to be mad at him, but I need somewhere to direct my anger.
"I'm guessing from your wonderfully delightful company that you haven't heard from Cat lately?"
Sometimes I just want to rip that beanie off his head and whack him with it. "No."
Aran opens his mouth but shuts it again with a snap as the García brothers pass us by. The atmosphere at the house has been weird as of late. It's like we're all threading lightly. I can't mention Texas to Aran; he's careful talking about Cat, and if anyone even says Blondie's name, Cadin becomes a weepy mess.
The result is a lot of awkward silence and hanging out in our rooms. Honestly, it's fine with me. Gives me more time to wonder what the fuck is going on with my girlfriend.
Once we're outside and nowhere within earshot of the twins, Aran nudges me. "Cheer up. She probably just has that bug going around."
It's late winter, and we're on a campus where people are more interested in sharing bodily fluids than obtaining knowledge, so there's always 'something' going around. Still, Cat has the immune system of an ostrich - surprisingly resilient animals - and it's the first time she's been bedridden in recent memory.
"It'll be okay, Reed," Aran insists, but I find it hard to believe. In my experience, radio silence from Cat is never a good thing.
Could I have fucked up again and not even know it?
More than once, I've considered picking up my phone and calling Chloé, but I know that if it were dire enough for her to confide in me, she'd reach out.
Our recent truce isn't the same as being confidants.
Back at the house, I collapse on my bed, covering my face with my hands. I lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling until there's a knock on the door.
I bite back a harsh dismissal - with my roommates, acknowledging their presence, however uncivil, is usually taken as an invite - and sit up cautiously. I'm not in the mood for mindless chit-chatter or, worse, a pep talk.
